


Someone Like You Around

by totheletter



Category: Baseball RPF
Genre: M/M, San Francisco Giants
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-06
Updated: 2013-08-06
Packaged: 2017-12-22 14:09:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 930
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/914120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/totheletter/pseuds/totheletter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I like having you around," Posey said. "You don't know how nice it is to have another guy from the South out here."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Someone Like You Around

**Disclaimer:** This isn't true. And it's fiction. Also, it's made up.

They sat side-by-side on Buster’s front steps, watching the sun sink behind Mount Sutro. Bumgarner nursed a beer as Posey chewed on a straw he’d saved from his drink at lunch.

"Sweet tea," Buster said, "That's what I miss the most."

"Mine's grits," Bumgarner replied. "Can’t find a good grit place anywhere in this town.”

Buster nodded. "I feel dumb when I say 'ain't.' People around here look at me like I grew a fuckin' second head or somethin'. And I still can't get over how they complain about heat out here. It hits 80, people start actin' like it's the end of the world. Come to my town. A heat index of 106 in July -- and that's a good day."

Bumgarner laughed. “I have to keep asking what 'the Panhandle' is, or why I should care why you don’t say 'Frisco.'"

“Oh, God. Don’t even cross that line,” Buster said, rolling his eyes. “They get crazy about some of that stuff.”

Bumgarner nudged Posey in the ribs. "You know what we should do, Buster? Walk down Market Street and ask people how to get to 'the 101,' then tell 'em how much cooler it is to live in L.A."

Posey burst into laughter, then turned toward Bumgarner. He studied the lefty's profile cutting into the darkening skies behind. Madison's stubble caught glints of the fading sun as he took another swig of his Coors.

"I like having you around," Posey said. "You don't know how nice it is to have another guy from the South out here."

"No, yeah, I understand. I feel the same way about you. It's always good to have someone around that I don't have to explain NASCAR to."

Buster nodded. "For sure." He couldn't help but notice how awkward Bumgarner looked sitting on the steps, lanky legs tucked almost all the way up to his chin so they wouldn't spill onto the sidewalk.

"When you were growin' up in Leesburg," Madison said, "Did you ever dream you'd be doin' this for a living?"

Posey thought about the question. "I guess so, but not here. I thought I'd be in the minors for sure, but I never thought about being up here."

"Me either," Bumgarner replied, tapping the blunt end of his beer bottle against the banister. "You know, before I got drafted, I'd never been west of the Mississippi. But you, look at you. You could own this place. Me, I'm just some guy from North Carolina. I could tell you about maybe ten blocks of this city. Van Ness, maybe. But the rest of it?" His hand fluttered in front of him. "Out there somewhere. Zito makes fun of me for it."

"I'm still not used to the city. Coming from rural Georgia to a place like San Francisco's a big jump," Posey said. "You look around, you got people walking down every street that went to Stanford or Berkeley or wherever and it makes me feel like I got buck teeth and a moonshine still at home."

"Bullshit, man. You're smarter than any of 'em."

Posey shook his head. "Nah."

"I'm not shittin' you. I wish I was half as smart as you. Sometimes when I look at you behind the plate, I can see your mind going ninety-to-nothin’. You're already mapping out pitches that won't be thrown for another inning. When you throw down a sign, I go with it, because a man who thinks like that knows what he's doin'. I don't trust many folks the way I trust you."

Posey hoped to God the reddish hue of the sunset masked his blush. He glanced in Bumgarner's direction, seeing those big, brown eyes staring back at him. Posey's heart began to pound and his mouth went dry. He felt like his brain switched to autopilot as he leaned in toward Bumgarner. He closed his eyes, though he couldn't be sure whether it was because he didn't want to see a trainwreck.

He felt his lips press against Bumgarner's. He felt the hesitation in the pitcher's muscles. Then he felt Madison's lips part, tasted the beer on his breath. Bumgarner put the bottle down and wrapped his right arm around Posey, drawing the catcher closer as their legs tangled around one another, fighting for room on the narrow stairs. Buster broke away and drew a deep breath, looking right into those damnable chocolate brown eyes that made him do crazy things.

Bumgarner kept his arm around Posey's hip, as though he were trying to make sure the catcher wouldn't jump up and dash back into his apartment. Truth be known, Posey thought he might just make a break for it anyway.

"What was that all about?" Bumgarner asked. He wasn't mad, just curious. His eyelids were halfway closed and his mouth quirked into a wry grin.

Posey said the only thing that came to his mind. "It's nice having you around."

"You keep doin' that," Bumgarner said, "And I might just have to stick around forever."

Posey smiled. "I'm gonna make sure you keep that promise."

Bumgarner smirked, stretching his lanky frame as he reclined on the upper stairs. Streetlights began to flicker on as indigo took over more and more of the sky. Posey's neighbors across the street returned from their evening walk. Bumgarner waved at them. A warm breeze rolled down the street, ruffling Posey’s hair, and for the first time since being called up, he thought that yeah, this whole living-in-the-city thing might just work out.


End file.
